One Word
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: For every ending there is a new beginning. Sequel to Forever Fallen
1. Six Hours

Title: _One Word_

Author: A. X. Zanier

Pairing: Darien Fawkes/OFC (Alyx Silver)

Rating: PG-13 (Language)

Summary: For every ending there is a new beginning.

Spoilers: Probably. Does it really matter after two years?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or basic story ideas to _The Invisible Man_. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine.

Notes: What can I say, when the bunny bites one must write.

Many thanks to my Beta, Krys, without whom my writing would suck huge monkey chunks.

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**One Word**

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_"A heavy load, I know, and yet one word wipes out all score of tribulations--love."_

_Sophocles (496 BC - 406 BC), Oedipus at Colonus_

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_Six Hours_

_._

"Hey," Darien knocked on the door frame, "everyone decent in here?"

There was a feminine snort of amusement from the direction of the bed and a grumbled, "Barely. Maybe you can talk some sense into her," from Mike where he stood, glaring at his sister.

Darien had only been asked to leave after all the preliminary tests had been completed. She'd become more and more coherent as time passed, but had been unable to utter a single word. Sounds, yes: everything from laughter to shouts of pain when a needle had been inserted a tad too enthusiastically. She'd been able to communicate via empathy and visual impressions, but no telepathy - words seemed to literally be beyond her for the time being. She was awake, stable, and completely confused.

Thankfully, she had no trouble understanding them; apparently her ability to comprehend language remained undamaged, but it was difficult for her to answer questions beyond the simple yes or no ones, as she had to be touching a person for them to _hear_ her and even then it wasn't always easy to interpret what she was trying to convey. Once they had taken her vitals, the game of _20 Questions_ began in earnest with Michele nodding, shaking her head or looking at them in wide-eyed confusion when it was plain the answer was well out of her realm of knowledge. It quickly became obvious that she had lost at least a decade's worth of memory. To her Dani was not quite 10 years old, Rose was still in diapers, and so Mike had preemptively made the decision to not allow the kids to see her until she'd been apprised of and understood the situation, though he was quick to assure her they were fine. Clinton was still President - first term - and _Independence Day_, _Twister,_ and _Ransom _with Mel Gibson were making waves in the theaters. She'd been shocked at how _old _Mike looked and suggested, through mental impressions, that if his job at the CIA was that stressful that he should consider quitting and joining the private sector.

It wasn't until Darien had a moment alone with Mike, while Michele was getting cleaned up and changing into some of her own clothes, that the 'why' of her remembering Darien came out. At least the only why' that made any sense to him. It was simply that they had met, years ago. For one week out of their lives, they'd fought boredom and the depressing sterility of a child's hospital room - hers - when he'd been a 10 going on 21 year old hellion. Mike agreed that it was, at least partly, why she remembered Darien, but suspected it also had to due with the fact that he'd been by her side for nearly two weeks. Given her empathy appeared to be functioning, Darien had probably made a subtle impression on her mind, so that when she awoke it was his familiar mental presence she recognized and not Darien himself. Considering that she currently seemed to have no idea who he was, other than the person with her when she woke, Mike's theory made just as much sense as Darien's own.

"What's she being stubborn about now?" Darien asked, and not facetiously. She'd outright refused to cooperate with some things they'd wanted to do earlier until she got some answers. When her EEG started spiking and the lights flickered in the room, Mike had overridden the doctor and insisted the CT scan and other more invasive tests could wait until tomorrow. It had been Darien who had deflected the near argument by pointing out that she had just awoken, did they really want to make her jump through hoops when she could hardly sit up?

Well, now she was sitting up, the head of the bed raised to support her while Mike fussed over her. "She won't rest," he said as he turned away from her to face Darien, which meant Mike missed her sticking out her tongue at him.

Darien chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Jeeze, she's spent how long napping? I know I wouldn't be all that interested in sleep about now."

Michele nodded vigorously in agreement, and then, when she realized her brother couldn't see it, tugged on his sleeve to gain his attention. The pleading look in her eyes must have swayed him.

"Damn it, Chele... All right, if you promise to take it easy," Mike admonished, which caused her to roll her eyes and then wave a shaking hand at Darien. "Yes, he can stay for a while longer, though you might want to ask him if he wants to."

Michele focused on Darien, the question easily read on her features. He shrugged. "I've a few hours free," he answered, making a point to sound completely noncommittal on the subject. Given a choice, he wouldn't leave her side ever, but since her desire to have him nearby involved curiosity more than any need, he was willing to let her decide.

She gave him a tentative smile and nodded, plainly wanting him to stay with her for the time being.

Mike sighed and watched Darien as he entered the room, rescued the chair he'd been using, which had been shoved off to one corner at some point during the day and sat down. "You'll keep an eye on her?"

"Of course," Darien assured him. Like he'd let anything happen to her if he could prevent it.

Mike nodded and leaned down to give Michele a quick hug. Her arms came up to encircle him, still with IV lines attached, and shaking badly; not from lack of strength, but due to her motor control no longer working as it should. At least, that's what the preliminary tests had determined. Any movement on her part was a painful experience to watch as she struggled to do the simplest of things. It was plain to Darien that there was a connection between the siblings that remained untouched by her recent injury and so as to not intrude on their private-seeming moment of bonding, Darien glanced about for the book he'd been reading to her when she'd awoken. After recalling that he'd dropped it, he found it under the bed where it had probably been kicked in the excitement.

By the time he sat upright, book in hand, Mike was once again standing beside the bed. "I'll check on you in an hour," he told her and this time she didn't argue. With a nod to Darien, Mike left them alone.

She stared at the doorway for a minute, one hand coming up to scratch along the edge of the bandage about her head before turning to look at Darien. She appeared to be less sure of herself now that she was alone with him. With a valiant attempt at a smile she gestured at the book he held and he lifted it so she could read the title, then, realizing he had no idea if she could read, said, "_Paradise Lost_, by Milton. With all the creative spelling."

Somehow, she managed to raise a single questioning eyebrow, which he found endearing, and pointed at him. It was obvious what she was asking. "Yours," he responded, reminding himself to be cautious with what and how he answered her inquiries.

She opened her mouth to rebut that statement, but struggled to get out little more than a few inarticulate sounds, before giving up in frustration.

Darien rested a hand atop hers, so that the information she was trying unsuccessfully to express quickly dumped into his mind. Which was essentially that she hadn't touched Milton since college and was wondering what had caused her to pick it up again. While Darien suspected that he knew, he wasn't about to tell her at this point. "Want me to read to you?" he suggested when the silence grew uncomfortably long.

She shook her head and motioned for the book, which he handed over and watched as she allowed it to fall open to one of the highlighted passages. Her fingers traced slowly along the sentences as if she were attempting to work out what was written on the page before her. When he noticed the tears in her eyes, he suspected her effort was going unrewarded, and that along with speech she'd lost the ability to read. Something he _knew_ would distress her.

"It's okay, baby, just give it some time," he said, hoping to prevent her from becoming overly upset. It was only her first day awake and it was entirely possible she could relearn anything and everything she'd lost.

She set the book down and turned her focus on him, a hand coming up, pointing first to him and then her. It was plainly a do we know each other?' that Darien was unsure how to answer without Mike chewing his ass off. So, he went with the truth, but decided to leave the details for later. "We're friends," he explained, knowing it was true enough.

She shook her head and reached out to set her hand over his. It quickly became clear that she wanted to know _how_ she knew him, followed by the image of himself as a kid.

He grinned. "Yeah, that was me." This answer only seemed to confuse her, since she knew they hadn't been in contact during the years she remembered. He took a moment to carefully think through how to respond without revealing exactly how much time she had lost. "We met again a few years ago, by chance," he said.

There was still confusion and she tried her best to convey just _why_. It finally took the image of an infant in his mind for him to latch onto the fact he'd called her baby,' and more than once since she'd awoken.

"Crap," he muttered, causing her to laugh in surprise, though her insistence at her query being answered never stopped poking at him. "We were... close," he finally admitted.

Her husband was suddenly in the forefront of her mind, overlaid with a heavy sense of worry and fear. "He was out of the picture by then, I promise you."

That just seemed to confuse her even more and she began to flood him with emotions and imagery that he couldn't keep up with. He was five years out of practice, after all. "Michele, I can't tell you everything now. Please." He tried his best to relay the seriousness of his statement to her. "'Sides, Mike'd hurt me if I did."

She pouted, but the flood of information stopped, leaving his mind to ring hollowly, like a bell shifting after a wind gust.

"I understand that you want to know, and now, but..." He paused, wanting to say this right the first time, and words of Bobby's sprang to his mind to help him. "Ignorance is bliss," he mumbled, then louder. "Right now it's more important for you to get better than to fill your mind with things that might... upset you." That was putting it mildly. He couldn't imagine how he'd react to discover he'd lost an entire decade and that everything he believed to be true about himself, his family was completely wrong. He took her hand into both of his and held on tight. "I'm just happy to have you back, Chele. You had us scared bad."

Her expression turned serious, and he could only wonder what she was picking up from him. A wave of comfort from her assured him she had no plans to go anywhere. With obvious effort, she picked up the book and held it out to him.

He gave her a smile and took it from her, one hand still firmly about hers. "Any preference?"

Her answer was swift and clear: the beginning.


	2. Six Days

_Six Days_

_._

The news wasn't good, although all concerned would freely admit it could have been much worse. Michele was unable to speak. Somewhere between her brain and her mouth, the neurons would misfire and left her unable to articulate anything of value, even though she could and did understand at least a dozen languages. The problem also carried over to her ability to read and write. She could actually _do_ both, but poorly, as if she had reverted to the level of a kindergartener, and it was unknown how much of those skills she would be able to regain. It had been less than a week since she'd regained consciousness so no one, including Michele, saw the situation as hopeless. Frustrating, yes, but not hopeless.

They'd also learned that standing for her produced the equivalent of severe vertigo, complete with nausea; her miniscule height suddenly seeming as if it were a thousand times greater and the floor beneath her feet a bottomless pit away. Her coordination was less than perfect, which only added to the vertiginous effect and often left her leaning heavily against the nearest stable object, eyes closed and gulping to keep down the little that was in her stomach. That condition had begun to improve after a series of mild seizures - something that still made no sense to the doctors who were caring for her, but it was difficult to argue the fact that it seemed to work. She was still shaky and weak, but within two days, she managed to stagger the few steps from the bed to bathroom and back with the aid of a walker. She wasn't thrilled with the accomplishment, plainly wanting everything to be normal, but she kept going. Pushing herself as much as she was able.

They had cautiously filled in her missing years, giving her broad strokes of information instead of the fine lines she wanted. So, she knew her husband had passed away and was out of her life for good, but not how he'd died. She knew she'd worked for the Agency, but not how that had come to pass. Met her children, a tearful reunion for all concerned, as Michele couldn't help but be upset about not seeing her children grow up. Met friends she had forgotten - Bobby had been his smooth and sexy best, charming her within minutes. Claire had even made the trip from LA, where she now lived, in hopes of triggering some of those lost memories, but with no obvious effect.

It had been more difficult to explain to Michele about _what _she was. She was aware of her empathy and the fact she was most certainly communicating with people without speaking. She handled the Cliff Notes version of the story without laughing out loud, though it was obvious she had wanted to. When the subject of the Quicksilver had come up, she had shown nothing but disbelief, wanting them to quit with the joking - until Mike injected something into the IV line, which _caused_ her to Quicksilver. Somehow, some part of her remembered what to do next and she had triggered it to fall away, and when she reappeared it was Darien she was staring at and not Mike, although even she could not explain why.

Darien had developed a routine that worked for everyone, as during the day the doctors tended to want to poke and prod her near constantly, tests and questions and who knew what else as they tried to determine the extent of the brain damage. Because she was, in many ways, unique, the damage was not matching the known standards, so treatment was hit or miss as they rewrote the book on brain function. He would go to work in the morning, keeping his business running and in the black - he'd finally explained exactly what was going on to his employees, who surprised him by being completely supportive, especially when they figured out this was _The Girl_ that their boss had been mooning over for years.

Lunchtime was spent with Michele, who was slowly learning to eat solid food again. He would bring something different every day and share tidbits with her while she partook a variety of protein shakes and meat broths about which she was totally unenthusiastic. Sometimes the foods he brought would trigger memories, which she would share. He would then head back to work for the afternoon, while she got to experience that day's round of physical therapy, which often left her achy or in outright pain when he showed up after dinner to spend a few hours with her in the evening. Sometimes he'd read to her, other times they'd talk, him carefully filling in some of the blanks about her, but more often than not just telling her about the changes in the world since 1996. The late news was always useful for starting a topic of discussion.

Darien improved steadily at being able to 'read' her, both with and without touch. That spot in the back of his head that used to be reserved for her presence woke up, and within days, he was able to _feel_ her from a couple yards away. And today what he could feel as he approached the room was building anger and the desire to be left alone. He paused in the doorway as Chele weakly pushed Mike away from her as she attempted to make her way across the floor towards a nearby table that held a few of her personal belongings that had been brought in recently.

"Damn it, Michele, I'm just trying to help," Mike snapped, plainly at his wits end with the stubborn streak she was letting run wild today.

As Darien strode into the room, ignoring the argument between the siblings, Michele spun about and growled inarticulately at her brother. However, the movement was too much for her fragile sense of balance and she swayed, on the verge of falling over and onto the floor. Darien reached out a hand, set it on her shoulder until she had steadied and then let go. She shot him a grateful smile and continued on her way to the table, where she picked up what looked like a travel kit and then made her way back to the bed with her prize.

"You are no help at all," Mike complained to Darien.

"Looked like I was just the right amount of help," Darien pointed out as he took up his usual seat next to the bed, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV.

"She's not ready to..."

A low growl emanated from the bed, as Michele waved a hand sharply to put an end to Mike's statement. Darien caught the wash of righteous anger and indignation that came off her. A low hum also began to build in the room, signaling that her extra abilities were waking up and choosing to get involved with the situation. Mike had already mentioned the need to retrain her once she was stronger.

"So, any luck with alternate communication methods?" Darien asked casually as he surfed through the channels for something to distract her.

"No," Mike stated, tearing his eyes away from Chele to look at Darien. "She can't even form words telepathically. It's leaving her a bit short-tempered."

"I noticed," Darien agreed, earning a glare from her, followed by a huff of discontent. He'd come up with an idea the night before and done some research on the Internet, but hadn't gotten around to suggesting it. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed. "Have you tried signing? From what I've read it uses a different part of the brain than regular language and Michele knows it." He gave her a grin. "You taught me the basics."

Mike thought about the suggestion for several minutes before shrugging. "Can't hurt to try," He then signed, _::You are a stubborn brat.::_

_::And you are an ass,:: _she responded without even pausing to think about it. Her hand movements were choppy and uneven, but understandable even by Darien.

"We have a winner," Darien commented with barely restrained glee, not bothering to point out that electronics were no longer contemplating going all _Exorcist_ on them.

She didn't take notice of his words and went into a rant at her brother that was surely impressive, but far beyond Darien's ability to translate. He caught the gist of it though. Something along the lines of her not wanting to be babied by Mike any longer that he eventually interrupted with a few choice words of his own.

"You cannot do this on your own," he barked, truly angry for the first time.

_::I have to:: _she signed. _::I am the one who is broken and you cannot fix me no matter how much you may want to::_

Darien held his tongue, knowing that the truth of her statement was not what Mike wanted to hear right now. He'd spent so much time worrying over her, trying everything in his power to encourage her to go on living only to, in his eyes, fail and watch Darien succeed.

"Broken?" Mike's voice was choked. "You're not broken." He moved towards the bed, but stopped short, suddenly unsure of himself.

She shook her head. _::I am, and you are afraid I always will be,::_ she asserted and Mike gaped at her. _::You know as well as I do this might be it. I might not get any better, might never learn to read or write, never walk without help, but... but I have to try. On my own.::_

Mike sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand running roughly through his hair. "Well, you are as damnably logical as ever. Just... there's no hurry. You don't have to try and do everything _now_," Mike reminded her. "Another day, or month won't make any great difference."

"He's right," Darien said softly, not certain he had any right to toss in his two cents.

Chele turned to face him. _::Technically, we both are,::_ she corrected with a hint of a smile lighting up her eyes.

Mike chuckled. "At least she still has her sense of humor." He patted her on the calf and stood up. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?" She nodded in response. "Enjoy your evening," he said to the two of them and then left the room, swinging the door shut behind him and giving them some privacy.

"You all right?" Darien asked, one hand stroking along her arm. She was wearing the bracelet; the one he'd discovered under his bed and brought along that eventful day when he walked back into her life.

She gave him a brilliant smile and nodded. _::I want to wake up from this weird dream, but, yes, I am all right.::_ She scratched the side of her head and then grumbled under her breath. _::Could you give me a hand?::_

"With what?"

She ran her fingers along the bandages, searching for something, and when she found it began tugging at the tape that held them in place. She had to stop when her hands refused to cooperate any longer. _::I want them off. I want to see **me**.::_

"Are you sure?" Darien asked, wondering how long she'd been arguing with her brother over this.

_::Yes,::_ she assured him.

"Okay." He stood up and she shifted so that he could easily get to where the gauze ended at the back of her head. He'd been curious as to why the bandages were still in place given the stitches had been removed long before. Her face appeared just as it always had, but he knew there was a chance that what lay beneath could look far from normal and not just due to a lack of hair. Bobby's comments about what a sniper bullet could do had led to also sorts of images being conjured up in his mind, many of which were any thing but pretty.

He slowly unwound the gauze, revealing more of the top of her head to his sight. Her hair was little more than a soft fuzz, just beginning to curl, but the same brilliant red he remembered. Where the bullet had entered was obvious, a slight indentation of her skull, where the bone was still rebuilding, the scar still raw-looking and hairless, but he was pretty sure once she had healed and her hair had grown longer it would go virtually unnoticed. Her hands went to her head as soon as the last of the bandages were gone; fingers tracing delicately across her skull, along the surgical scar above her right ear and the entry wound.

With shaking hands, she opened the travel kit, removed a small mirror, and slowly raised it until she could see herself. There was an audible groan of dismay and tears welled in her eyes.

"Hey," he said to get her attention. When that didn't work he cupped her chin and turned her head to face him, his other hand removing the mirror from her nerveless grip. "You are beautiful," he told her, and meant it. She was heartbreakingly lovely to his eyes, the short hair making her look even younger than before.

She wiped away the tears that had spilled, and then rested her hand against his cheek. A wordless wave of _thanks_ tickled his mind; followed a moment later by a sudden feeling of apology. Her hand dropped, her eyes rolling back as she went into another seizure, this one easily a grande mal, if he were any judge, her entire body quaking with it. He hit the emergency call button and then did his best to steady her, talking to her as calmly as he could manage while she shuddered beneath him.

Within seconds, two nurses, Dr. Stanwyck and Mike were in the room and going into what had become routine over the last few days. Instead of having Darien move out of the way, they worked around him, his hand practically trapped in her grip. So, he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think small and not interfere any more than necessary.

This seizure was by far the strongest they had seen yet, her readings way off the known scale, as her brain set off random neurons and wreaked havoc with her body. It went on for nearly five minutes, Stanwyck debating the merits of giving her a muscle relaxant to ease the stress, when she finally went limp; the numbers diving back towards normal. Still, Darien didn't move and listened as the foursome discussed the situation.

As had happened before, she didn't immediately wake up, the misfire plainly having exhausted her and taking her straight into a deep sleep. Darien made it clear he was going to stay until she awoke and took up vigil at her bedside once again. The only reason it wasn't a lonely were the plethora of people who stopped by the room to check on her. Everyone in the building seemed to worry over her, doubly so now that she had woken up.

It was three hours of waiting, with dozens of micro-seizures recorded by the EEG, during which time Darien did his best to distract himself. Eberts stopping by had been a weird experience. The brown-nosing pencil-pusher Darien remembered was possessed of a strength and composure that he had never suspected lay beneath the veneer of accountant. Not only did Eberts show his heartfelt concern for Michele, he made it plain that no matter what the outcome, he and the Agency were going to stand behind her, that she would _not_ become another Charlie Fogarty. Proof that some things had indeed changed for the better with the passing of the torch.

Mike must have been watching the monitors in the viewing room, for he was at her side within seconds of her regaining consciousness. Darien had just enough time to set down the book he'd been reading and turn to look at her when she'd begun to moan softly, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to open them.

"Easy, Chele, you had another one," Mike soothed, one hand running lightly across her forehead as if wanting to brush nonexistent hair away. Then he turned to Darien. "We were leaving the bandages on for a reason, you know."

Darien felt a twinge of guilt for helping her, guessing the removal of the coverings had been one of many arguments between the pair during the last few days. "To protect the injury or _her_?" Darien asked, willing to bet it was the latter of the two.

Mike frowned. "Must you take her side in everything?"

"You're worse than Hobbes ever was," Darien stated, beginning to get tired of Mike's over-protectiveness himself. "This is not about sides. It's about what's best for _her_. She has a right to know what's going on. It's her life, after all, not yours."

"No shit," Mike hissed. "And I seem to recall you walking out of hers five years ago. What makes you even _think _you have any idea what is best for her?"

Darien sucked in a breath in shock. Apparently, Mike hadn't been as much a part of the bring Darien in to help' camp as he'd been led to believe. "I don't claim to," Darien said, his voice ominously flat. "I'm pretty damn sure she can make up her own mind."

Mike proceeded to turn a lovely shade of crimson, and appeared to be preparing to blast Darien with a scathing retort when a quavering voice stopped both of them cold.

"S...s...s...to...op, p...p...p...pleas...s...s...se," Michele struggled to say.

"Crap," Darien muttered, wondering how long she'd been listening to the testosterone-influenced posturing between he and Mike before speaking up. He felt his heart pause its beating before suddenly tripling speed. "You spoke," he squeaked in surprise.

She nodded. "P....p.....pl....ay n....n....n...ice," she ordered, tossing in a mock glare for good measure.

"We were," Mike said, glancing at Darien for an instant, his look hard. "There were no punches being thrown."

"Y...y...y...y...et," Chele pointed out.

Darien agreed, "Yet," suspecting that the cessation of hostilities was temporary at best. "How're you feeling?"

"T...t....t...ired," she admitted.

"Then sleep," Mike told her. "They're going to want to run more tests tomorrow."

Michele rolled her eyes and huffed discontentedly. "T...t...t...es..s...sts e...ev......vil."

"Tell me about it. Keepy used to get giddy running em on me. Just one more, Darien'," he mimicked in a falsetto, complete with awful British accent.

Chele snickered, giving him a smile that was quickly swallowed up by a yawn. "D...d....d...dar...ien," she began, making his heart jump with joy at hearing her say his name. "St....st...st...ay?"

Darien glanced at Mike, whose lips were nothing but a thin line, waiting for him to grant permission for Darien to remain with his sister. Be easier if he could sneak around behind Mike's back. Eventually Mike gave a curt nod.

"'Til you fall asleep. I have a meeting first thing I can't miss." Not a lie, but since Mike clearly wanted him out of the picture for a while, Darien would forgo his plans to reschedule the meeting and ignore his personal wish to stay with her.

She nodded and turned to meet her brother's eyes.

"Oh, all right, I'll leave you two alone," Mike grumbled, released her hand and walked from the room. This time he left the door open.

"He's worried about you," Darien explained, wishing that he believed it was only that.

She shakily signed, _::He is still being an ass.::_

Darien shrugged. "I'd say it's allowed, given the situation." She surprised him by grasping his hand, dragging it over, and kissing his palm. "What was that for?" he asked, valiantly attempting to keep his composure.

She looked confused for a second. _::Because I wanted to,::_ she finally answered. _::I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable.::_

Apologize? Uncomfortable? Damn, he'd wanted her to do that for years, but right now, he wasn't sure how to handle it. He had all this knowledge about her, about _them_ that left her with a distinct disadvantage. "'Chele... I care about you. I think you've figured that out," She nodded, "but... like with your recovery, we have time. All the time in the world."

She shook her head. _::What if we don't?::_

It was almost as if she _knew_ something he didn't, but he couldn't... wouldn't allow that to change his mind and try to rush things. "A'course we do. I said I wasn't gonna leave, remember?"

She dredged up a smile from somewhere and didn't argue, but he couldn't help but notice the trace of disagreement in her eyes.


	3. Six Weeks

_Six Weeks_

_._

Darien had come to realize something over the last few weeks, Alyx Silver, the woman he had fallen in love with, that he would walk through fire for, that he had unsuccessfully tried to forget for the last five years, was gone. But in her place was this amazing creature that, if it was at all possible, he had fallen even harder for. And it wasn't out of pity or some overwhelming sense of protectiveness, which would have been a perfectly natural response. No, it was simply that he'd spent the last several weeks getting to know and coming to admire Michele, who was a markedly different person from Alyx. Oh, there were most certainly hints of Alyx within Michele, the eyes, the strength, the pure ballsiness on occasion, but at the same time she was also far more like that young girl he remembered trying to cheat at poker. She had this... innocence about her that Alyx had been lacking, and Darien could only wonder what had occurred in that now-missing decade that had stripped it from her.

He had watched Michele struggle to relearn to walk, to read and write, to articulate even the simplest of words and do it without a word of complaint or railing against whatever god that had chosen to visit these hardships upon her. Not that she didn't have bouts of anger, unhappiness or depression. Some of the physical therapy was outright painful and she often grew frustrated at the rate she was allowed to learn; her tutors doling out information far too slowly for her vast capabilities. That was the one saving grace; her ability to learn had not been hampered and her memory was as frighteningly accurate as ever. She had made a serious start at relearning a decade's worth of world events in a little over a month, something that could not have been possible without the use of the Internet. It had been Rose who pointed out that her mother was perfectly capable of surfing the 'net and researching any bit of trivia she wanted, which had greatly increased Michele's reintroduction to the world.

It also proved that her eerie ability to connect mentally with computers was still perfectly functional and that with a keyboard in hand she could write concisely and clearly, whereas her handwriting was still marginal at best, mainly due to reduced motor function. Typing turned out to be far easier for her and she was quickly catching up with modern programming techniques and began writing a few, simple as yet, encryption keys. Simple to her, that is. The first one that made the rounds of the Agency had Eberts offering her a job contingent on her recovering enough to return to work.

She had considered the offer long and hard, as it became evident she would never return to field work, but after several serious discussions, including a couple with Darien, she decided against continuing to work for the Agency. Eberts had assured her it would be in the capacity as computer specialist only, writing and breaking programs: a comparatively safe and secure position, but she questioned what would happen if it became known _Alyx_ was alive, in whatever guise. Would Eberts be able to keep other agencies from demanding her services as they had before? Would he be able to protect her 24/7 from those who would be more than happy to have access to her genes? They would be quick to learn that all of Alyx's memories were long gone, thus making her a liability instead of an asset to whatever nefarious plans that had been concocted this time.

In the end, it was agreed that it was better to let it _Alyx Silver_ pass into the annals of history and for Michele to take on a new identity that just happened to be similar to that of a woman who had passed away almost a decade ago. It was deemed too difficult to resurrect her after all this time, but the Agency did their best to come up with an equitable solution. Michele's relationship with the Agency would inevitably continue, as they were the only ones capable of dealing with her unique medical issues, never mind the fact two of her four children worked for them.

Darien feared her relationship with him would be coming to an end now that she was heading home.

Home, as it turned out was in the planned community of Rancho Bernardo, about 25 miles north of San Diego proper. She and three of the kids (Dani had taken up residence in Alyx's old studio) lived in a pricey private and gated community on Lake Hodges, the house a huge sprawling mission-style with more space than you could shake a stick at. Neighbors included local money and a few of Hollywood's elite - the home being a second or third residence for them. There had been a time when Darien would have given his eye-teeth to case a place like this, now he just tried to blend in with the crowd that had gathered to welcome Michele home.

Hobbes had been the one to "remind" Darien about the surprise get-together, which, as it turned out, he'd known nothing about. Mike had conveniently forgotten to tell him. Not too surprising given the _talk_ they'd had when it was confirmed when Michele was well enough to leave the safe haven of the Agency permanently. There would be security, of course, but they already watched the house and the kids, so it wasn't that big a deal to add Michele to their duties.

Mike had made it clear that he would prefer if Darien became less involved in Michele's life now that she was starting over. Darien had been straightforward and stated that it was Michele's decision and that, while he would not push her into anything, he had said he would not leave until _she_ told him to go. Of course, he was hoping that day would never come, but for the time being, he was more than willing to keep things at the level of friendship, which she did indeed need and want. It didn't make his nights easy, as she made constant appearances in his dreams, very few of which included anything even vaguely resembling the platonic.

A smile from her would set his heart to pounding and Hobbes knew it, so he'd made sure Darien was here today even though Mike had tried, damn near successfully, to keep him away. Dani, had even expressed her thanks at his appearance - her uncle had told her Darien could not come - and that she hoped he would continue to spend time with Michele and their family.

"Fawkes, stop hiding in the corner," Bobby said with a shake of his head as he handed Darien fresh beer in exchange for the lukewarm one he'd been nursing for 20 minutes now.

"I'm not hiding," Darien insisted, after taking a long drink of the icy brew.

"Well, you ain't casing the joint," Hobbes eyed Darien warily for a second, "or are ya? You using that upstanding businessman routine as a front to get into places like this?"

It had been so long that Darien almost - _almost_ - missed that Hobbes was ribbing him. "Maybe," he said slyly. "I could recommend a few upgrades to the security that's for sure."

Hobbes eyebrows rose. "Really? Thought you didn't do security?"

"I don't," Darien confirmed, "but some of my clients want a complete system and there's a couple guys I work with." He glanced about the room, the sound of her laughter drawing his attention. "Ain't found anyone I like well enough to hire full time, yet."

"Have you asked the kid?" Hobbes suggested.

"'Chele? Why would I do that?" Darien looked honestly confused.

"Fawkes, that's her specialty; writing security programs and encryption keys. Why else would Ebes want to hire her before she was up to par on today's tech? You can't have forgotten the way she can make a computer sing?" Hobbes asked in all seriousness.

Darien shook his head. He hadn't forgotten, but also hadn't really thought about it either. "She wants to try and get started on her own. If I offer her a job..." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I don't want her thinking she's a charity case, y'know?" Never mind that her twin would probably hire someone to pound him back into his component parts if he did.

"Fawkes, that is the _last_ thing she would think if you asked her. I can guarantee that," Hobbes tried to assure Darien, but he wasn't as believing.

Darien shrugged. "Not the point. 'Sides, I'm still not sure I want to expand. Business is busy enough as it is." He then set about changing the subject. "We still on for Friday?"

Hobbes allowed it. "Yep, barring some situation that absolutely needs me. Getting so's that every time I'm out in the field I'm saving the world yet again."

"Same old same old, then," Darien deadpanned.

Hobbes snorted. "You know it, my friend."

Darien was about to respond when a familiar form made her way out of the crowd. She leaned heavily on a cane as she moved towards them. Her hair was all soft curls that made her look exceedingly sweet and innocent. "Hey, baby, welcome home."

_::Thank you,::_ she signed, going up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. _::Why are you hiding in the corner?::_ she questioned, causing Hobbes to chuckle in amusement, to which she retaliated by giving him a hug and his own kiss.

Darien sighed. "I'm _not_ hiding," he grouched.

"Yes you are, Fawkes," Bobby stated, adding an elbow into Darien's side for emphasis.

"Hobbes," Darien growled warningly, which only succeeded in making Bobby roar in laughter. "See what I have to put up with?" he said to 'Chele who smiled at him.

"C....c....c...an w...w...we t...t...ta...a...alk?" she asked of Darien. Her ability to speak had improved only marginally and it was doubtful it would get much better. It left her with what sounded like a severe stutter, but was in fact her brain literally getting stuck as she tried to say the words, skipping in the same spot until she knocked the mental needle loose. One day she had commented that she wished she could upgrade from vinyl to CD with a built-in buffering. It had earned a laugh from all present, but was no less serious a statement for the levity.

"Sure," Darien answered, glancing over at Bobby who shrugged, not having any idea what it was about either.

"C...c...c...ome o..o...n. I...I...I'll g...g...i...i...ive you th...th...the t...t...two b...b...b...it t...tour." She looked up at him with a thankful expression. Most people, he had noticed, became impatient and tried to finish her sentences for her, much to her irritation. He, Bobby and a few others didn't, and would wait calmly for her to say what she wanted. It was sad to think about, but that impatience was probably something she was going to have to get used to as the number of people who understood sign language was fairly small.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Hobbes said with a grin as he walked away.

'Chele looked to Darien to supply the witty comeback. "_Is_ there anything you wouldn't do?" he asked, getting a thumbs up from her.

Bobby turned about, but continued to back away. "That would be need to know." He grinned and wagged his eyebrows in mock-lasciviousness, which caused 'Chele to snort in amusement.

"Y'know, the truth would probably frighten me," Darien commented as Bobby vanished into the crowd. He drank down more of the beer, nearly finishing the bottle and then set it atop the table he'd been standing beside for the last hour or so. "Lead on." He placed a hand in the center of her back and waved towards the nearest interior doorway, somehow knowing she wasn't up for a stroll outside.

She led the way through the dining room, the kitchen and up a back stairwell. Darien was just a step behind her, to catch her if she slipped, as stairs were still a challenge for her. They wandered down a hallway and finally ended up in what had to be her bedroom; he recognized the bed as one he'd spent more than few hours in... once upon a time. She bypassed both the lavish sitting room and the bed in favor of opening the French doors leading to a small balcony that overlooked the backyard and, in the distance, the lake.

She leaned out over the balustrade for a moment before turning back to face him. _::I'm glad you came. I had heard you were too busy.::_

"Uh, more like I was conveniently left off the guest list," he said as he strode over to join her. There was no one below them so their conversation would remain reasonably private. "Mike didn't want me here."

She frowned. Even she had noticed her twin's behavior towards Darien the last few weeks. _::He is being a...a...a...::_ She stopped her brow creasing for a second. "P...p...p...u...u...u...utz," she finally got out, which caused Darien to shake his head and grin.

"He doesn't want you to get hurt, is all. And I'm guessing he figures I'm a prime candidate for hurtin' you." Darien wanted to be as honest and up-front with her as he could be, but for all that he'd gotten special clearances at the Agency, he still wasn't allowed to talk about certain things with her.

She shook her head. "M...m...m...my l...li...life," she stated.

"Hey, that's what I've been saying, but he doesn't listen to me." He spread his hands in submission. It was obvious changing Mike's mind was going to be a long and arduous process that might never be successful. "There are things in my past that..." Darien didn't want to say he wasn't proud of them; he had loved being a thief, but the stigma of his bad boy image was not necessarily something she'd want to deal with. He'd lost jobs when it came out he was an ex-con, so it wasn't something he advertised, but if asked he would tell the truth. That honesty had won him a few clients he'd thought were out of reach initially.

"Let's just say I wasn't always the guy I am now," he added, hoping she'd understand.

_::You were a thief, right? Or is there something else that I missed? Paid hit man? Pedophile?::_ If the last hadn't been asked with humor easily visible in her eyes he would have been forced to wonder exactly what was in his files these days. Instead, he swallowed hard, afraid that the reason she wanted to have this discussion was to tell him to hit the road and get out of her life forever.

"Michele, I... I was told to not talk about my past. I wasn't hiding it from you..." She cut off his pleading explanation with a single finger laid gently upon his lips.

"I kn...kn...kn...ow," she said, her finger tapping his nose before slipping away. _::I hacked the Agency system and looked up your files. You used to be able to Quicksilver too.::_

Darien had a sudden feeling of deja vu as he recalled Alyx having done something similar during her first weeks as the newest Agency recruit. "Ah. So you know why I left as well."

"Y...y...es." She nodded. _::And it does not matter. Your past, or the fact that you left...::_

"Left you, you mean." Darien tipped his head down, not able to meet her eyes. He'd walked out on one of the best damn things in his life to get away from what he felt was the worst damn thing in his life, only end up unhappy and alone instead of reveling in the freedom he thought he'd more than earned.

"N...no," she argued, moving closer so that she could look up into his eyes. "Y...you d...d...did wh...wha...what w...w...was r...r...ri...right f...f...or y...you. Y...y...our l...l...life."

Okay, so she was still capable of winning an argument with only a sentence or two. He suspected it was a talent she'd always had, and that probably drove her family nuts. "Yeah, my life, but it was a lot emptier without you in it."

She stepped back, and he thought he'd gone too far for the tenuous relationship they were building. He was oddly relieved to realize she'd moved solely to have room to sign her response. _::Alyx Silver is gone. I need you to understand that. The woman you...cared for is not going to return.::_

Darien knew that, with all his heart and soul, but hearing her say it for the first time, made it really hit home. "I'm not trying to turn you into her, or anything like that."

_::Then what? I am a stranger to you; wearing the body of a person you knew very well. What is it you want from me?::_ she asked, her question completely justified, though it saddened him to think she was probably asking him to leave already. Oh, he'd do it. He wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, even at the expense of his own happiness.

"Want? Nothing. I'd like the chance to be _your _friend. Unless you don't..." She interrupted him with a violent shake of her head. "Then what? I... I care about you 'Chele. Yes, some of it is because I knew you before, but... I just want a chance," he finished lamely, afraid to admit how deeply he cared for her already.

_::All right,:: _she signed, making his heart leap with joy. _::But with some conditions.::_

"Like what?" As if he wouldn't be willing to do just about anything to be with her.

_::Clean slate. We start at the beginning.::_ The look in her eyes was a challenging one.

"No rush, huh?" Michele nodded in agreement. "Wait, does this mean no sex today?"

She chuckled softly and smacked him lightly on the arm. _::Not today. But a kiss would be acceptable.::_

Darien's eyebrows rose as heat settled into lower parts of his anatomy. "A kiss. Well, I don't know. Seems a bit fast t'me. You don't want to get a reputation for bein' easy, do you?" The humor of his tone was almost lost in the sudden dryness of his mouth as she sidled closer, her hands settling on his hips as if they had always belonged there.

"I...I'll r...r...ris...s...sk i...it," she whispered, going up on her toes to bring herself closer to him.

Darien didn't even bother fighting it, his hands coming up to cup her face as he leaned his head down to kiss her. _'Oh, crap,'_ he thought as the softness of her lips impinged upon his awareness. Well, that and the tingle of electricity that he felt, along with a rush of desire that _wasn't_ his. When she opened her mouth slightly, giving him the opportunity to explore further, he took it. His tongue slipped inside her mouth to find hers waiting to greet him. After that, his forebrain shut down, sizzling into overload like a live wire falling into a pool of water. The moment was all that mattered as opposing forces met and formed a joyous truce.

It was the growled, "Am I interrupting anything?" which broke through the euphoria and Darien pulled away enough to meet Michele's eyes. A feeling of utter peace and wonder was emanating from the tiny woman in his arms. Still, it took the raucous clearing of a throat before either of them could manage to switch their focus from each other. They turned their heads to see Michael standing in the doorway of the bedroom, fists at his sides, and anger drawing his eyebrows together.

"Umm, no?" Darien responded once the question finally registered.

Mike's frown deepened, if that was at all possible. "I want to talk to you, now."

"M...m...mi....ikey, d...d...d...don't," 'Chele warned, not liking his look any more than Darien had. "W...w...w...we..."

"_You_ have guests downstairs," Mike stated, his voice colder than St. Petersberg in the winter. Darien would know; he'd spent a month there a few years back.

Michele crossed her arms over her chest, planted her feet and shook her head emphatically. "N...n...n...o."

"Shit, 'Chele, did you lose all your common sense?" Mike snapped, not bothering to even try to hide his dismay at the scene he'd walked in on.

Darien felt the crackle of energy in the air and the wave of anger coming off her so he did the only thing he could. "It's okay, sweets," He curved a hand about her neck, "he isn't likely to hurt me in front of so many witnesses."

"I wouldn't count on that," Mike riposted, which was just more proof to Darien of where Mike stood. The energy about 'Chele flared, becoming visible for an instant. Mike sighed, relaxing his posture. "Kidding. Jeeze, do you always have to assume the worst?"

_::These days?::_ she signed quickly. "D...d...dar...i...ien..."

He stepped around to face her. "Go back to your party. I'll be there in a few minutes."

_::Are you sure?::_ She glanced over at her brother. _::I think I can take him.::_

Darien snorted. "No need. Now go on. Spend some time with your kids. Let Bobby spoil you rotten."

She met his eyes squarely, as if looking for something in their depths before sighing. _::All right.::_ She gave him a swift kiss, on the lips, just to annoy her brother, he was certain, and then limped out of the room, shooting her brother a look that warned of severe harm should anything happen to Darien.

Once she was gone, Mike shut the door. "It's apparent you two are picking up right where you left off."

Darien didn't argue and stepped further into the room, meeting Mike half way. "Not really, just...feeling out the situation." He could have explained that the kiss had been her idea, that is had been her suggestion that they find out if what they were feeling was real, but he didn't, doubting Michael would believe a word of it.

"'Feeling out the'..." Mike sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, his lips moving as he seemed to count to 10 before speaking again. "I can't make you do a damn thing, but I want you to listen to what I have to say with an open mind."

Since it was a reasonable request after an honest admission, so Darien nodded. "Sure."

Mike waved Darien towards the sitting room and leaned on the edge of the desk. "It's about 'Chele and her husband Jess."


	4. Six Months

_Six Months_

_._

The sound of the office door opening made Darien grind his teeth in irritation and want to pound the keyboard in frustration; it had definitely been one of _those _mornings and he wanted no part of dealing with his employees much less clients at this point. "Miriam, I said I was not to be disturbed," he yelled, spinning about to see... Michele standing in the doorway with a smirking Miriam behind her.

"Somehow I didn't think it applied to _her_, boss," Miriam stated, then as she shut the door, "Good to see you again, Michele."

Michele stood there with hands shoved into her pockets, messenger bag slung over her shoulder and a poor attempt at a smile upon her face. "L...l...lun...un...unch?"

Darien didn't even bother glancing at the clock on the wall, the look on her face was enough to encourage him to say, "Yes," without hesitation. He logged out of the computer, grabbed his jacket and was by her side in mere moments. "Where to?" he asked once they were standing on the sidewalk outside his building.

She shrugged. _::Anything nearby,::_ she finally suggested.

"You okay?" he asked, her entire posture suggesting her morning had been worse than his.

She shook her head, not even making the effort to glance in his direction.

He draped an arm about her shoulders, figuring she could use the camaraderie, and contained a sigh of pleasure when she leaned against him for support. She hadn't brought her cane along today, which meant she hadn't planned on a lot of walking, as she still had to deal with the vertigo and balance problems. He led the way down the street to where he knew one of those generic bar and grilles hid in the shadows. This one happened to do one of the meanest burgers in the area. The beers on tap weren't half bad either.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Slumming it?" He held the door open for her and waved to the waitress, before directing Michele to one of the booths in back. The interior was dark, but not so much that they'd be lost to each other in the gloom. The television over the bar had a Padres game on, the local boys winning for the time being.

_::Job interview,:: _she answered once he was seated across from her.

"Cool." He hadn't realized she was still looking for work. "How'd it go?"

_::Awful,:: _she admitted. _::They...::_

Darien reached out to stop her hands mid-sentence. "You don't have to sign. I like your voice."

She shook her head, yanking her hands from his. _::Too slow.::_

"I'm in no hurry," he assured her. Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress.

"Hey, D, want your usual?"

"Make it two." He figured Chele wasn't going to be too picky right now, and besides, it wasn't like this was _Chez Loma_. She was back in seconds with the beers, placing them atop the cardboard coasters she produced from within the depths of her half-apron before leaving them alone.

He waited patiently as Michele picked up her drink, a bottle of Corona, complete with lime wedge in the mouth, removed the citrus and downed a quarter of the contents without pausing for breath.

"What happened?" Darien asked, toying with his bottle.

_::Wish I knew. He wouldn't even look at my work. Just told me that they had met their quota for handicapped employees.::_ She ran a hand through her hair, tousling the short curls.

"Son of a bitch," Darien cursed softly, wishing there was something he could do.

_::I am not handicapped. Am I?::_ Her eyes were filled with pain and he stretched a hand out to caress her cheek.

"No way, baby. You're perfect." He knew his words wouldn't take away her hurt, but it was the only thing he could think of to do. "I hope you told them to go to hell."

She nodded. _::Among other things. I just... It is getting old. I just want to work, and all anyone sees is the limp and all they hear is the stutter. Even the ones impressed with my coding gave me the bum's rush. They were just more polite about it.::_

He lifted his lime and sucked on it thoughtfully. "Do you need money? I can loan you some..."

"N...no. M...m...mon...n...ney i...is n...not a pr...pro...problem," she assured him, which is what he had thought. _Alyx_ had made more than a few bucks on the side and he couldn't imagine it just vanishing in the last few years. That house of hers hadn't been purchased by the Agency or with Betty Crocker stamps, that's for sure.

"So why work? Specially for some big company that won't appreciate you and take all your credit."

_::Truth?::_

He nodded, seriously curious now.

"I...I'm b...b...bored," she stated.

"Bored? After everything you've been through?" He paused as she raised one eyebrow and reconsidered his words. Once again, he'd managed to forget that she didn't remember her life of the last few years. "Uh, let's just pretend that I didn't put my foot in my mouth, kay?" She chuckled softly. "So I take it being a mom ain't enough."

_::Yes, it is, but it's not like they need a mom. Least not my version. I still have to remember that I am **not** in the midst of potty training Rose. She... they all have their own lives. Between school, friends, and the Agency I rarely see them.::_ She sighed and looked wistful. _::They all grew up when I wasn't looking. And it's not like I have anything to do at the house. We have **people** for things like cleaning, cooking, driving. Plus, Mike is their legal guardian, so, anything they need he gets for them. I am redundant and feel like I am in the way most of the time.::_ This time there was the distinct feeling of hurt about her and he knew there wasn't anything he could say. Luckily, the arrival of their food saved him from the potentially awkward moment.

They spent a few minutes eating, dunking the oversized steak fries into ketchup and her eyeing the monstrosity that claimed to be a burger before bravely taking a bite. She gave an actual groan of pleasure when the unique combination of flavors hit her tongue, and Darien didn't bother hiding the smile. There weren't many people who appreciated bacon, onions, mushrooms, Swiss cheese, and horseradish on a burger made in heaven itself. He had no idea what the secret ingredients were, but the term melt in your mouth' had to have been coined just for this piece of cooked meat.

"So, you want me to beat up the jerk who blew you off today?"

Chele gave him a grin and shook her head. _::Doubt it would make a difference. Bobby suggested I talk to you.::_

"Really, about what?" Darien couldn't help but wonder what his friend was plotting this time.

_::He mentioned you were looking to expand into electronic security. Go high tech with computer monitored systems, preferably tied into your mechanical ones.::_ Chele's entire posture had changed. The anger and unhappiness of earlier was gone; to be replaced with that self-assuredness he had come to know so well during her recovery. _::I can give you samples of my work. Draw up some designs to show how the various systems would work together... if... if you are interested, of course.::_ And suddenly she was shy, her cheeks reddening as if concerned she might have overstepped her bounds.

Darien wanted to throttle Hobbes, and would have had he been present. It wasn't that he didn't want to offer her a job, from what he knew about her skills, she'd be damn near perfect for what he was trying to accomplish, but circumstances had prevented him from broaching the subject with her. "'Chele..."

She sat up perfectly straight, her face going blank. _::Not a problem. Thought Bobby was off his rocker.::_ She smiled wanly and turned her head to gaze out over the room in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

"You _do_ assume the worst, you know that?" His statement was effective and she snapped her head back around to eye him warily. "Call Miriam and schedule an appointment for next week. Next few days are too busy for me to look over your ideas."

"R...r...really?" The hope in her voice was physical thing.

"Yes, really. Bobby suggested I talk to you a while back, but..." He shook his head at his own foolishness. "I didn't want you to think I was offering you a job out of pity or anything."

Confusion skittered across her face for a long moment. _::Why would I think that?::_

Darien chuckled, remembering that Hobbes had warned that she wouldn't react that way. "I... Exactly how many feet can I shove in my mouth at once?" he mused aloud.

_::At least two,::_ she observed with a grin. _::You won't be disappointed. I'm up to date on current tech, can work in Windows, Mac, Linux or Unix and have more than a few tricks that are... nonstandard.::_

"I believe you. Now, relax, and finish your lunch. You still haven't regained all of the weight." She stuck out her tongue, but dutifully picked up the burger and took a huge bite from it. His willingness to seriously consider her for a position seemed to ease some of the worry from her. If only it were so simple to make his clients happy.

They spent another hour, lingering over a second beer before Darien paid and escorted her out the door into the early afternoon sunshine. Instead of heading back towards his office, they strolled casually down the street, glancing in the windows of various shops until they arrived at a small park that defined the edge of this semi-industrial area from the older neighborhood it bordered. There was a fountain in the center of the park, with trees surrounding it that were set just far enough back to provide shade for the artistic benches, but still allow sunlight to hit the dancing water. Darien would occasionally drop by in the evenings when he wasin no hurry to return to his empty house.

Michele strolled over to the fountain, watching the flow of water in silence for several minutes. Darien stood beside her, mildly surprised by the air of discomfort he was sensing. "Anything wrong?"

She shrugged. "D...d...do y...you l...l...like m...m...me?" she suddenly blurted out, blushing furiously as she did so.

Darien blinked and went perfectly still, wondering where the hell that question had come from. Liked her? If it wasn't for the self-imposed restraint he had in place, he'd have his hands buried in her hair and his lips tasting the skin of her throat. He shook his head to clear it of that image before anyone walked by him was able to notice exactly how he felt about Michele. "Of course I do, why?"

She shuffled her feet then turned slightly so he could see her hands better. _::I thought we were going to... date or something, but we only go out with Bobby or the kids and you haven't even tried to kiss me since my welcome home party and every time I have tried to kiss you, you squirm out if it. So, I cannot help but wonder if you like me.::_

Her hands moved so fast that he had to take a moment to mentally catch up with the impressive run on sentence she had signed, and by the time he had he could only groan in dismay. And he'd thought she hadn't noticed that he'd gone from taking it slow' to spinning his wheels and going nowhere.'

_::Did Mike get to you?::_ she asked, clearly not willing to believe that after all his pronouncements of caring for her that he had suddenly changed his mind.

Since he saw no easy way out of this discussion, he decided the truth was best. "Yes, but not the way you think." He sat down on the edge of the fountain and gestured for her to join him, which she did after a few seconds of quiet contemplation. "He told me some stuff that happened, between you and Jess."

Chele's eyes widened, the irises shrinking into pinpoints as he watched. "D....d...damn it," she cursed, plainly not happy with her brother. _::What did he tell you?::_

"Not as much as you might think. I already knew about the abuse, though you," He cringed slightly using that term, but there wasn't another option that made a whole lot of sense, "never went into detail. Mike was more worried about the fact that you became dependant on Jess. He was afraid that you might do the same thing with me, and... I couldn't disagree with him."

Chele sighed heavily. _::I am getting real tired of his interference,::_ she complained.

"Mike saw this as your second chance. No Jess, no Agency, no one and nothing in your way to live your life the way _you_ want." He nudged her with his arm. "He actually had the best of intentions, y'know."

"I kn...kn...know," she agreed, then switched to signing. _::Too bad the rest of the world isn't willing to give me a chance.::_

"The ones who matter will." Darien shifted sideways and took one of her hands into his. "I want you to understand that I did as Mike asked because of... what I know about you. When we met, you were a very different person and I suspect that something in the years you don't remember caused the change. I didn't want to risk you losing the... the happiness you have now."

"H...h...how w...w...was I d...d...dif...ferent?" she asked, lowering their hands to her lap and running the fingers of her other along the back of his.

"You didn't trust anyone. Couldn't. It was months before you were able to lower your guard even the tiniest bit," he told her. She was subdued, but seemed to be handling the discussion with a minimum of difficulty.

"I tr...tr...trust y...y...you," she stated.

"Yeah, you do and I don't want to mess that up."

She gave him a smile. "Y...you w...w...won't." She freed her hand from his, what she wanted to say too complex for speaking, he guessed. _::I feel out of place, out of step from the rest of the world... except when I'm with you. I know just who I am, what I want to do. I don't feel lost any more.::_

She gazed into his eyes and he felt his heart lurch in his chest, followed by that wondrous feeling of falling that he recalled experiencing the very first time her met her. She had just bared her soul to him, admitted that _he_ was swiftly becoming the center of her universe, could he do any less? "You don't have to feel lost ever again, Michele. When you woke up and didn't have a clue who I was... I wasn't sure what to do. I just knew I couldn't walk away and... and then I went and fell in love with the woman you'd become."

Michele stared at him, stunned. "Wh...what d...d...did y...you j...j...just s...s...say?"

Darien chuckled. "I said, wanna make out?"

"D," she squawked, standing and glaring down at him.

"'Chele," He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "I said I love you. And if you are ever feeling lost you are more than welcome to stop by my place to find yourself again."

"D... does th...th...this m...m...mean w...we c...c...can d...d...date n...now?" The grin was swallowed up by the absolute joy he could see in her eyes.

He got up and curved his hand about her neck. "Oh yeah," he murmured, and kissed her.


	5. Six Years

_Six Years_

_._

A quote by Luce wandered into Darien's mind, _'No good deed goes unpunished,' _and right now he couldn't help but notice the irony in the fact he was living proof of its truth. "Ah, crap," he muttered, pressing the cloth usually reserved for displaying expensive gems more firmly against his abdomen.

All he'd done was stop by Ignacious' office on the way home when a routine scan of the security system had come up with a glitch. Iggy was more than just a client; he'd become a friend during the installation, and Darien had bought more than a few pretties for 'Chele from the jeweler. 'Chele was constantly tweaking the system, so it was possible the warning flashing on the monitor at the office was nothing more than a new bug, as she'd done a minor upgrade just two days ago.

And instead he'd played the unintentional hero and walked right into a robbery.

Iggy was tied up in the back room, bruised and bloody from a beating, while three masked men were screaming at the computer system. They were at a loss as to why the code they were entering, and that should have opened the safe where the unset gems were stored, was not working, leaving the door stubbornly shut. Darien had tried to sneak into the room - some skills never faded especially when he kept them honed - and had just succeeding in untying Iggy when they were spotted.

Darien swiftly found himself shoved face first into the floor, with a knee planted painfully into the middle of his back and a phone cord wrapped snugly about his neck. He'd thought he was lucky when one of the others, whose voice he recognized, but couldn't quite put a face to, called his partner off. Darien then found himself in a chair, the cold green eyes of a masked man glaring into his own and demands for the code being growled at him.

It was one of the rare times in his life he thoroughly enjoyed telling the truth. He didn't know the code. It was 'Chele who had memorized every single code and knew all the overrides (that was her side of the business, after all), though he made sure not to tell them, just bluffed that he would have to look it up at the office. So, that's when he found himself at the receiving end of a knife, three swift thrusts into his abdomen. The pain actually didn't hit for several seconds, but when it did, he _knew_ it was bad.

Iggy came to his rescue, volunteering to key in the code, which was initially refused until he explained that his thumbprint was also needed to open the door. With voluble curses, the ringleader agreed and dragged Iggy to the safe. Once it was open he was pushed aside and seemingly forgotten, so when all three thieves were inside the safe, plundering it, Iggy slammed the door shut, locking them within.

Iggy knelt down beside Darien, peeling back the cloth to check on the wound. "Help's on the way. You just hang in there."

"Phone," Darien requested, knowing that coppery taste in his mouth was blood and that it was anything but a good sign. Of course, the fact that he'd stopped hurting about five minutes ago didn't bode well either.

"Yeah, sure," Iggy said, handing of Darien cell, which he'd used to call for help since the land lines for the building had been bypassed, making them useless, and Iggy's own cell phone was nothing but tiny plastic and electronic bits on the floor.

Darien didn't even have to look at the keypad to dial the number. It rang twice, before the machine picked up as he expected. 'Chele rarely answered the phone due to her difficulty speaking. "Hey, baby, looks like I'm gonna be later than I thought." He laughed bitterly and it devolved into a coughing fit that sprayed blood across his legs. "I... I screwed up. I want you to know that I don' wanna leave and..." He swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes.

_"D?"_ she got out, the fear and confusion plain in the single word.

"I love you." He began coughing again, the pain excruciating, and dropped the phone as he wrapped his arms about himself in some vain hope of holding himself together for just a few moments longer. Sparks flashed in the corner of his eyes, the world spinning dizzily around him as the strength seemed to just flow out of his body. "Love you, 'Chele, " he mumbled as the room faded into blackness.


	6. Six Minutes

_Six Minutes_

_._

As soon as Michele realized something was horribly wrong, she rushed to the computer and called up the GPS program and traced where Darien was. The incident a four years ago involving some megalomaniacs calling themselves Chrysalis had resulted in she and Darien taking some extra precautions, which included this bit of programming. Within seconds she had a locale and was grabbing her keys. On the way to the car, she called Bobby.

"Tr...tr...trouble," she got out comparatively easily.

"Text me the need to know and I'll be there ASAP," he responded without an argument, knowing by now that she would never cry wolf.

'Chele cheated and used her mind to write and send the information through the cell phone, trusting Bobby to make the best time he possibly could. She did the same, arriving outside the unprepossessing building that housed Bayside Gemstones to find police and emergency personnel already swarming the place. She slid into the first parking spot available and ran for the building, only to be stopped by an uniformed officer.

_::I need to get in there,::_ she signed, only to have the officer shake his head.

"Sorry ma'am I don't sign. You need to stay back," he directed, plainly assuming she would understand him, then he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to steer her away.

She resisted and dug into her bag, coming up with her business ID and waved it before the cop's face. He grabbed it, without taking it from her hands, and looked it over.

"You do the security for this place?"

She nodded.

He released the ID. "I still can't let you in there right now. Once the scene is secure then I'll see what I can do." He gave her a smile, as if hoping she'd understand. "Stay back for now, please?"

She was about to argue when a familiar presence stepped up behind her. "Where's the fire, kid?"

She turned just enough for him to see her hands and began signing furiously. _::Something has happed to D and this bone head won't let me by.::_

"You sure, kid?"

She nodded emphatically. "Y...yes."

The fact that she had spoken damn near perfectly - a sure sign she was upset - must have convinced him, and it wasn't like she was known for jumping at shadows. He frowned and reached into his jacket pocket for his badge. "All right. I'll have a go at throwing my weight around."

It took a couple minutes, but he got them past the yellow tape and barriers that were going up to block off the street. The police were even directing traffic around the area, which only made her worry grow. Bad enough she could just barely feel Darien in the back of her mind, but the frenetic movement of the various emergency workers was not helping matters any.

Bobby was talking to someone who appeared to be in charge, trying to get some answers on what had happened when the police led out three handcuffed men dressed in black. One had hair that was sweat dark and mussed, suggesting that he'd been in a mask not long before. And 'Chele recognized him. With a growl of anger, she pushed her way through the crowd and towards the group. The green eyes widened in shock as she neared, clearly knowing who she was. Without allowing herself to think of the consequences, she let fly with punch that connected with his face, splitting his lip and bloodying his nose.

"B...bastard," she snarled, even as two of the officers moved to restrain her. "Y... you k...killed him."

"Whoa, take it easy there, Ponch," Bobby said as he intervened on her behalf. "Who's the mook, kid?"

"N...nathan Mc...Mc...Greg...gor," she snarled, hot tears of anger and utter sadness sliding down her cheeks. _::He used to work for us. Until I caught him trying to steal the override codes.::_ She spun back around to face Nathan. _::I changed the codes two hours after you were fired. And here I thought you could not get any more incompetent.::_ She gave him a deadly smile. _::Good thing California still has the death penalty.::_

"Death penalty? Kid, what..." Bobby's question was interrupted by the arrival of Iggy.

"Michele, I'm so sorry. I should have just given them the code, but I decided to be stubborn, figuring no one could break the security..." He stumbled to a verbal halt, one hand scrubbing at his face and smearing the half dried blood across his cheeks. "He tried to rescue me and instead he... he..."

Iggy didn't need to finish the sentence as the EMTs came through the door just then pushing a gurney with a sheet-covered body on it.

"Fawkes," Bobby questioned; the anguish in his voice audible to anyone nearby.

Michele went perfectly still, the ground beneath her feet suddenly a million miles away as she allowed herself to fully acknowledge the situation. Bobby's heartache and Iggy's guilt only added to the vertigo that was upon her. With a whimper she swayed, shutting her eyes against the false information slamming it's way into her mind via eyesight. She felt not only Bobby's hand on her arm, but that of some stranger, keeping her upright and steady.

"Easy there, Michele," Hobbes whispered hoarsely as he helped her to sit on the ground.

"Ma'am, are you all right?" a stranger asked, his voice full of concern.

"N... no," she answered, as she leaned into the strength that was Bobby.


	7. Six Days redux

_Six Days_

_._

_'I should have told him,'_ she thought morosely. It might have given him a chance, warned him that trouble was on the horizon, but she hadn't, not wanting to worry him unduly with the vapid maunderings of her short-circuited mind. But now... now she was wishing she had, wishing to take back the last week and be permitted to do it over again. Like a small child who felt unjustly cheated in a game of kick ball crying, "Do over. Do over." until the others became so annoyed that they gave in and just let her try to kick the damn ball again.

It had been difficult living all these years with the knowledge that the day might come when the Quicksilver induced REM firings in her brain might come to pass, but not so soon. Not when they were at the beginning, not when they were so happy and loving life as much as each other.

When she'd initially had what she had thought was nothing more than a strange recurring dream in those first few weeks after she'd woken up it had been Bobby in whom she had confided. Bobby who'd had the bad luck to stop by for a visit right after she'd woken up from another rendition of sleeping horror. So it had been Bobby to explain the weird connection between Quicksilver and prophetic dreams that, while they often came true, were just as often not fully realized. Explained how Alyx, that alter-ego of hers she remembered nothing of, had them with an eerie regularity, but looked to them as no more than another bit of data in a business that was all about being in the know.

In the end, he'd told her that she should never let these dreams stop her from doing what she thought was best, from following the path that seemed right for her.

So, she hadn't. Then that same dream made a reappearance a few weeks ago and, while she'd mentioned it to Bobby, neither of them saw any urgency in telling the one who ended up lying in a pool of his own blood.

_'If only I had told him.'_ She lifted her head from her knees to gaze at the headstone that marked his final resting-place, his last stop on this mortal coil before moving on to... whatever came next. If there were a heaven, she was quite sure that even if the gates were barred by St. Peter himself, he would find some other way in, climbing the back wall and hopping over to experience the joy and wonder of the afterlife. Then again he might just find it a tad too quiet and staid for his taste and escape for other realms. _'Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.'_

The thief had never been completely left behind, and so she had made sure the coffin was black, though the funeral director kept trying to sell her the dark brown, with cream silk interior, as, to his mind, it was far more fitting the upstanding citizen he had become. In the end, it had been the black, knowing that he would approve of the choice since it was during the black of night when he would climb high-rises to practice his art. Black was the color of the snug clothing he wore, to blend in with the shadows and on silent cat's paws steal whatever pretties he had chosen on that occasion. Black of the headstone that had been fitted in place just the day before. Black on black on black.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, the tree doing its best to keep her upright, her mind wandering from place to place, trying to find some stable ground on which to stand. She had no idea why no one had kicked her out, as there had been any number of visitors, groundskeepers and security who had wandered by, yet none had taken notice of her. Perhaps she had faded into the background, Quicksilvering unconsciously, some primitive form of self-preservation that hid her from sight so long as she chose to remain sitting a dozen feet away from the sod covered mound of dirt and shiny black marble marker.

_'If only I had told him,'_ she thought yet again, staring blindly across the perfectly manicured grass and wondering idly how long she was going to stay here, as there was obviously no impetus for her to move.

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

Bobby's voice broke her out of her musings and she looked up at him bleary-eyed and exhausted.

She had to clear her throat twice before she could manage to form a word. "S...s...s...sit...t..t..ting," she told him, confident that was the correct answer.

Beside him stood Dani, wearing a look that was a strange blending of relief and sadness. "Mom, how long have you been here? We've been looking all over town for you."

Michele shrugged, not entirely sure herself.

Bobby squatted down next to her. "Kid, you're still in the clothes you wore to the funeral... two days ago," he informed her with a strained smile.

"O...oh. Th...th...then I g...g...guess ...i...it's b....b...b...been t...t...two d...d...days." She truly didn't care; this was where she wanted to be; where she needed to be if there was going to be any hope of her finding her way. She knew that, just like she knew that she wouldn't succeed, her compass rose smashed and unreadable.

Bobby gently took her hands into his own and tugged her upright. Dani appeared at her side, offering her support, both physical and mental, as well. "Mom..."

"Th...th...they p...p...put the h...h...head st...st...stone in," 'Chele pointed out, waving weakly at it.

Neither turned to gaze at it, and, though she didn't need to, having memorized every contour hours before, she did. The words upon it were simple and to her mind apropos given the way things had ended.

"Mom, we're going to take you home." Dani's words were half statement, half plea, and so 'Chele nodded. It was a direction to move in, something for the damaged compass needle to point towards instead of spinning madly in circles.

Bobby placed a strong arm about her waist for support and urged her towards the parking lot. "Kid, are you gonna be all right?"

She shivered lightly as they stepped onto the graveled path and spoke what she felt in her heart and mind, "N...no. I...I'm l...l...lost."

.

.

.

Darien G. Fawkes

1968 - 2014

_"Heroes are often the most ordinary of men."_

Henry David Thoreau

.

.

.

**_Finis_**


End file.
